


A Chance to Fix What’s Broken

by HardNoctLife



Series: Summer Gladnis Week 2019 - HardNoctLife [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Universe, Coming Out, Dehydration, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship/Love, Gay, Getting Together, Gladnis, Gladnis Week, Hot, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, One Shot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Summer Gladnis Week 2019, Sweaty Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 21:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: Summer Gladnis Week 2019, Day 7: "No AC", Adjectives: "Steamy/Hectic"The group ends up staying in a caravan without any air conditioning. Ignis and Gladio attempt to fix the problem and end up with their hands full.





	A Chance to Fix What’s Broken

“Man, it’s _hot_,” Noctis complained from where he was tucked under the fold out table. _It’s cooler on the floor_, he had insisted.

“Then lose the jacket,” Gladio grumbled as he walked out of the caravan’s closet-sized bathroom, shirtless and with a sheen of sweat along his hair line. He’d tied his mane of dark locks into a bun, the loose strands flat and dripping with moisture that slid down his rippling back muscles. The Shield stepped over where Prompto was crammed in the aisle, the blond’s bandana tied around his head to keep salty droplets from falling into his eyes.

“How did we manage to crash in the only place without AC?” the sharpshooter lamented, pulling his damp shirt away from his stomach and waving it in a vain attempt to circulate the muggy air.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t next to a literal volcano,” the prince groaned. “Can’t we come back another time? Vyv can live without that stupid picture.”

“We need the money,” Gladio grunted. “It wouldn’t be an issue if you two hadn’t spent it all on food at the last stop,” he added, more than a little bitter. The Shield leaned against the tiny kitchen table, head spinning with sudden dizziness—probably from dehydration, he assumed. He couldn’t seem to stop sweating, and it was putting him in a foul mood.

“Bite me,” the prince spat, just as miserable and twice as irritated. Gladio made a move towards him, anger spiking.

“What’d you just say?” The Shield’s voice had descended into a growl. Noctis poked his head out from its hiding place, and he glared, sticking up his middle finger. “That’s _it,_ I’m gonna—”

The door to the caravan creaked, moving the air just enough to make it feel like an oven door had opened. Ignis, shirt partially unbuttoned, poked his head in, observing the three men who blinked back at him.

“Any luck?” Prompto called. The blond was currently attempting to wipe his brow with his shirt, and only succeeded in spreading his sweat thick across his flushed face. He scrunched his nose in disgust, flopping his head back against the bench behind him in defeat.

“Unfortunately, the technician cannot be here until tomorrow.” There was a chorus of groans in response to Ignis’s bad news.

“Iggy, we’re gonna _die_ here.”

As much as Gladio wanted to stay mad at the prince, he couldn’t help but sympathize. Prompto nodded his agreement, sweat flinging from his head onto the nearby furniture. The advisor sighed, calculating.

“Perhaps you and Prompto can go up to Ravatogh for the photograph while Gladio and I attempt to come up with a solution,” Ignis suggested. Gladio gaped in disbelief at being voluntold as Prompto pushed to his feet, nearly slipping in the imprint his body left behind.

“Ew—_gross_,” the sharpshooter whined. Noctis rolled over and rose with a huff.

“Anything to get out of this muggy hellhole,” the prince griped. Ignis nodded as the two men slipped past him and out the door, then he turned to Gladio, who was staring back at him in blatant annoyance. The air was standing still again, weighing heavily on their skin and making it slick. The Shield resisted the urge to run his hands down his forearms to wick away the moisture.

“Really, Specs?” he sighed, exasperated.

“It will go faster with the two of us.”

Ignis stepped up into the camper. Gladio squeezed to the side to allow the man passage to the back where there was a full-sized bed, one of two sleeping areas in the RV. He peered at Ignis with interest as the man bent over, and the larger man took a moment to appreciate how the fabric of the tactician’s pants grew taut over his sculpted behind before he pulled on the mattress, causing it to swing up on its springs. Curious, the prince’s Shield wandered over, observing the air conditioning unit hidden beneath its frame. They both coughed as dust floated up to meet them, Ignis waving one hand to shoo the particles away.

“This is it,” Ignis said, crouching down. Gladio noted the sweat stains in the small of the slender man’s back that darkened Ignis’s otherwise light shirt, swallowing as a strange feeling curled in his abdomen, heat unrelated to the stifling air making it difficult to breathe. “Grab me the tool kit, will you? It’s in the upper cabinet.” Ignis began to fiddle with the machine’s settings as Gladio moved to obey, retrieving the kaboodle that was stashed over a low-lying bench.

“I didn’t know you were a handyman,” Gladio joked before giving it to him, watching as Ignis opened the toolbox to retrieve a screwdriver and wrench.

“Learning how to fix things was a necessity for me. When I was younger, my parents and uncle were gone often, and there were many things I had to do on my own,” Ignis explained. Gladio sat against the edge of the built-ins in the wall behind him, eyebrow arching.

“Sewing, cooking, and now this? You’re going to make some woman very happy someday,” Gladio commented. He tried to keep his tone casual, heart skipping a beat as Ignis made a dismissive noise. The advisor got onto his hands and knees then, attempting to remove the side panel by loosening a set of screws, and Gladio had to lift his gaze to the ceiling to keep from staring at the curve Ignis’s spine made, mouth going dry.

“That’s doubtful,” Ignis said. There was a pause. “I have no interest in getting married—in the traditional sense.”

“Oh?” Gladio hoped he didn’t sound _too_ interested as he straightened up, sweat now pouring liberally down his chest and stomach. _Is it just me, or is it hotter than Ifrit’s ball sack in here_? he wondered.

“Mhm.” Ignis gave a nonchalant nod as the metal cover popped free. “I prefer men.”

The blasé confession made Gladio freeze, a shiver winding across his arms in spite of the unbearable temperature inside the cabin.

In all their years together, Gladio had been too afraid to ask what he had wanted so desperately to know, battling against feelings that he had fought to suppress since puberty. Part of him had always suspected—hoped, really—but then again, Ignis hadn’t dated _anyone _in high school. The prince’s Shield had chalked it up to his friend being so busy all the time. If he wasn’t studying or training, he was taking care of Noctis or performing his other advisor duties, leaving no time for relationships.

Gladio, on the other hand, had experimented with boys and girls alike, but found no satisfaction no matter how hard he tried. At first, he thought he must be broken, but whenever Ignis was around he was reduced to a drooling fool, and it didn’t change as time went on. Gladio was rendered lovesick as Ignis was always close, yet too far for him to grasp, and he had resigned himself to staying in the bespectacled man’s periphery, too afraid to jeopardize their friendship by admitting his longstanding attraction.

Even so—every casual touch or off-handed innuendo pulled at Gladio’s heart as if it were on a string that Ignis held in his capable hands. Hands that were currently busy rifling through the metal air conditioning console. Ignis’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, lips pursed. Gladio imagined pulling him up by his suspenders so he could run his tongue across those perfect lips, slipping between the folds into the warm, wet recess of Ignis’s mouth—

_Sweet Six, pull yourself together, Gladio._

Gladio belatedly realized he hadn’t commented on Ignis’s confession, and he racked his brain for something adequate to say, something that would tell the advisor that he didn’t mind—that Gladio supported him no matter what, no matter who he loved. Even if that person wasn’t him. The Shield panicked as the silence stretched between them, finally spitting out the first words that came to mind.

“That’s cool.”

_Nailed it._

Gladio almost slapped a hand over his face, mortified, but Ignis either hadn’t heard him, or didn’t deem the reply worthy of a response. Or, there was a third possibility—he was too busy, seeing as he was neck-deep in nuts and bolts, but Gladio preferred to believe that Ignis had graciously let his idiocy slide.

“Ah! I think I’ve found the problem,” Ignis exclaimed, and he waved at Gladio, beckoning him closer. Clearing his throat nervously, Gladio stooped down, peering over Ignis’s shoulder into the hole he had opened up. The heat radiating between the two men was enough to make the Shield swoon, and he had to put a hand out to steady himself, stubbled chin inadvertently brushing against Ignis’s collar bone.

_Dear gods, please help me not to make a total ass of myself._

“That wire appears frayed. I may be able to mend it,” Ignis mused.

“Great.” Gladio sat back on his heels quickly, lungs sucking in air as if he were a drowning man breaking through the surface of water. He closed his eyes briefly, but they shot open as soon as he felt something skim his thigh, nearly toppling backwards when he found Ignis’s arm stretched over him, hand dipping between his legs. It was only then that Gladio realized the supplies were positioned between his knees. He held his breath, eyes panning upwards as Ignis rummaged through the toolkit.

_Act natural—act natural! _

“You find what you’re looking for?” his voice came out an octave higher than normal and Ignis paused, looking at Gladio over the rim of his glasses. He tried to keep his expression neutral as the advisor held up a roll of black electrical tape, answering the question. 

“I have, in fact. And you?”

“Me?” Gladio tried to swallow, but it felt like something was lodged in his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a yo-yo. “I’m not…” Ignis’s eyes were trained on him, patient, yet expectant. He was waiting for an answer, and Gladio’s mind went blank, mouth moving without any sound coming out.

After a few seconds of watching Gladio struggle, Ignis looked away, pulling off a strand of tape to attach to the battered electrical segment.

_Way to go, idiot! _

Scooting back, Gladio lumbered into a vertical position, the room spinning from the sudden change in elevation. He pressed his temple into the wall of the camper with a sigh, only to have his eyes widen as he caught sight of Ignis’s hips thrusting back and forth as he positioned the tape with care.

_Which Astral did I piss off to deserve this torture?_ he groaned internally.

“Aha, that’s it!” Ignis crowed, hands clapping together. Gladio startled out of his thoughts, stepping forward.

“What is it, Iggy? You fix it?” There was a sudden whirring and clunking noise as Ignis successfully turned the AC unit on, and he beamed up at Gladio in such a way that the Shield flushed, smitten by the subtle tilt of the tactician’s head and joyful crinkling around his eyes.

“Iggy, that’s great!” Gladio grinned as the advisor jumped up, but the surge of happiness suddenly turned to horror as Ignis’s enthusiasm manifested into a hug, Gladio turning as still as a statue and stiffening when the advisor threw his arms around him. “G-good job,” Gladio sputtered, patting Ignis awkwardly on the back.

“Thank you!” Ignis said, standing back to hold Gladio at arm’s length.

Gladio grabbed the back of his neck, fingers twitching nervously. “I didn’t do anything,” he insisted.

“You provided moral support.” Gladio squinted at his friend’s teasing, studying Ignis’s face. It was soft and rosy at the edges, aglow with the sweat that coated it, sandy hair plastered to the man’s forehead. Captivated, Gladio unknowingly reached up, pulling the tendrils free before he could think better of it. Ignis’s smile deepened, long lashes fluttering demurely. When the dark-haired man registered his hand’s action, he yanked it back like he had just touched a searing stove.

“Sorry,” he grunted.

“Whatever for?” Ignis’s voice dipped low, releasing butterflies in the pit of Gladio’s stomach.

“For…uh…” He couldn’t think when Ignis was looking at him like _that_—sultry and seductive—and oh-so-fucking-charming, and—_wait_. Gladio did a double take, anxiety making him second guess himself. Those were _definitely_ bedroom eyes. He’d used the same exact expression more than a time or two, but it could just be that Ignis was toying with him, recognizing how riled up he was and using it to make him flustered. Friends did that, right? Teased each other—relentlessly and mercilessly? It was normal. Completely, one hundred percent _normal_.

So why did Gladio suddenly feel like he was going to throw up, and why were his palms clammy? Most importantly, why the hell did his chest _ache _like he had just run a race?

_Oh no. Am I having a heart attack?_

“Gladiolus,” Ignis murmured, making the bearded man’s head snap up. The Shield temporarily tabled his concern for his health, and promptly got lost in Ignis’s eyes. 

“…yes?” His voice trembled, and he felt weaker than any time he could remember from recent memory. Something in the air shifted, like static before a thunderstorm, or the sudden dip in temperature before the rain. Ignis leveled him with a soul-searing look.

Gladio felt instantly feverish, body not registering the cold air that fanned over him from the newly repaired AC unit. His skin was on fire beneath the advisor’s intense gaze.

The moment hung suspended in time, and instinctively, Gladio knew what he _should_ do, but it was the matter of doing it that was the problem. Ignis’s lips parted slightly, inviting. Gladio begged himself to move, but even the slightest effort felt like wading through a pit of sand.

When Ignis chuckled, Gladio’s knees quivered like they might buckle. Ignis appeared to move in slow motion, head tilting to the side, and the Shield observed with a mix of trepidation and awe as their lips met, a spark lighting under his ribcage when they touched.

He found he couldn’t breathe as Ignis’s mouth covered his, spots of light dancing in his vision. Something pulled tight in his chest, uncomfortable, yet exhilarating.

_Is this actually happening?_

Gladio was vaguely aware of Ignis’s lips sliding against his own, followed by an abrupt _CRASH _as his legs gave out from under him.

Then, the world went black.

* * *

The first thing Gladio noticed was how his bare skin stuck to the tile beneath his body, and he wondered if he had imagined Ignis’s miraculous fix-it as a strange fantasy brought on by delirium. When he opened his eyes, he blinked groggily to clear away the blurriness, a dull throbbing pulsing in his skull. It took a few extra seconds for him to notice Ignis sitting nearby, the man looming over him in concern.

The next thing Gladio noticed was that Ignis was stripped to the waist, suspenders hanging limply at his hips, and the Shield miraculously found himself alert and attentive, blinking at the sculpted torso that were within spitting distance of his face. 

“Are you all right? You passed out,” Ignis explained. Regretfully, he added, “You landed on the air conditioner. Unfortunately, I think it’s irreparable now.”

_Great. Just great. _Gladio groaned loudly. “I’m sorry, Ignis.” He was surprised to see his friend smirk, looking sly.

“It’s quite all right. It’s not everyday that such an attractive man…falls for me.” Gladio’s mouth dropped open at the shameless flirtation, earning a laugh from Ignis. He clamped his jaw shut with a _click_.

“How’s your head?” Gladio’s eyes traced the arc of Ignis’s arm to where the tactician’s fingers came to brush against one temple. He winced.

“Hurts,” he admitted.

“Allow me.” Ignis rose with incredible poise considering his state of undress and disappeared into the tiny kitchen. Gladio listened to him rummage in the fridge and cabinets from where he lay, gaze wandering about the room.

_This is humiliating. The King’s Shield, _fainting_? I’ll never live this down._

When Ignis returned, he had a bag of ice in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Kneeling at Gladio’s side, he applied the compress, and Gladio inhaled at the chill that permeated through his brain, dulling his headache. Gladio accepted the water that Ignis held out next and took a sip, some of it spilling down his chest as his hand shook. He found Ignis’s palm sliding over his knuckles, helping him hold it steady.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Ignis answered.

Their eyes locked again, but Gladio quickly looked away. The silence felt heavier in the stuffy room, weighing down on them like a blanket. It was smothering. 

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable,” Ignis blurted, and Gladio sat up so fast that the man reared back, landing on his ass with a _thud_.

“No—_no_!” Gladio reiterated as Ignis blinked rapidly, head pounding. “It’s not your fault.” He worked up the courage to look at the tactician directly, dizziness returning in full force from the frantic thrumming of his thread bare pulse. “I wanted to. Kiss you, that is.” The Shield took Ignis’s stunned expression as a good sign.

_Words. _Words_, Gladio. _

Gladio’s mind was slow to process, body still reeling from the lack of fluid in his veins. If he sweated anymore, he imagined his brain would shut down completely, which meant he needed to tell Ignis how he felt while he was still somewhat coherent.

“I’ve wanted to for a while, Iggy. There was just never a good way to ask. Or maybe I was just too scared.” Gladio laughed then, short and bitter. Ignis was still staring, lips now pressed together, and he hadn’t moved from his place on the floor. The dark-haired man pushed on, figuring he might as well make his shame complete. “But if you don’t want to be with an idiot like me, I get it. Gods, I can barely function around you. It’s like I’m a hormonal teenager all over again—not really the kind of guy you want to be with.” 

There was a break in the conversation, followed by a scraping sound as Ignis crawled on all fours, suspenders dragging on the ground. He positioned himself over Gladio, bringing his face in close so that their noses touched. Gladio inhaled sharply, letting his body go limp in surrender.

“You are an idiot, Gladiolus Amicitia. I have been trying for years to grab your attention, and here I thought all this time that you weren’t interested.” Ignis tsked, glasses fogging as he kissed Gladio’s jawline, then one cheek, then the other, before finally flitting a tongue over the darker man’s lips. “Delicious,” he murmured.

Ignis tasted like salt and sweat. Gladio shuddered.

_All this time? _He was amazed by what he was hearing, observing Ignis with a child-like wonder.

Applying pressure to Gladio’s shoulder, Ignis eased them both back onto the floor, and Gladio felt the man’s upper half slide along his chest, slippery and firm. “I would like to make up for lost time,” Ignis whispered, the words buzzing into Gladio’s throat where Ignis’s lips rested.

A moan escaped the Shield in spite of his best efforts to keep it contained, electricity shooting from the nape of his neck to the base of his tailbone. He could feel Ignis’s mouth on his body, wandering liberally, tongue dragging across the curve of his muscles and teeth nipping at the bones that jutted prominently across his shoulders. Gladio closed his eyes, sinking into a state of hazy ecstasy while Ignis explored.

When their clothes were peeled away, Gladio’s muscles contracted and relaxed in quick succession, grateful to be free of their saturated constraints, utterly at Ignis’s mercy.

Already soaking, their limbs rubbed without friction, extremities and body fluids mixing indiscriminately.

Moans were caught up in the room’s humidity and sent floating, and a euphoria unlike the Shield had ever known filled him and dripped from every pore, hot and thick, clinging in his hair—lingering on his tongue.

They laid side-by-side when it was over, stuck together, but not minding it. Ignis drew patterns in the sweat that beaded on Gladio’s abdomen, humming happily.

“What are we gonna tell Noct and Prom?” Gladio murmured, head comfortably fuzzy now. Ignis laughed.

“The truth?” he suggested.

“There’s no way I’m telling them I passed out.” Gladio shook his head, but it made his brain rattle in his skull, so he stopped, wincing.

“We can skim over the details,” Ignis offered, kissing Gladio in reassurance. “I am done hiding, however. I have waited too long for this.” The declaration made Gladio’s chest swell with joy, and he nodded in agreement, an arm slipping around his companion. A little more shyly, Ignis added: “And as soon as you have recovered, I would very much like to do this again.”

Gladio chuckled as he pulled Ignis closer, thinking that the heat of the cramped caravan was no match for the fire that now burned in his heart, the flame fanned even in the absence of circulation. Leaning into Ignis’s soaked skin, Gladio silently offered a prayer of thanks to Ifrit for broken things—and the capable hands of the man who was able to fix them.

[ ](https://ibb.co/fCWBjfD)

**Author's Note:**

> This author responds to all comments! Feel free to talk to me directly on Tumblr (hard-noct-life) and Twitter (@HardNoctLife).
> 
> Art is by AceFlorins. Follow her on Tumblr/Twitter (@aceflorins)


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